Everything Must End
by Mia Jillian
Summary: The end of the world fucking sucks. You're thrown into a world where you don't know if you'll make it to the next day and you're never able to relax, not really. Xo knows this all too well. Having to raise her daughter in the apocalypse isn't the ideal situation. But when she meets Rick's group, and is reunited with Bella's father, she knows that they will both be able to survive.
1. Prologue

**I DO NOT OWN THE WALKING DEAD**

**A/N: I imagine Gina Rodriguez as Xo and Scarlett Estevez as Bella.**

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It didn't end in a bang or an explosion. Instead, it ended one scream at a time. You watch about end of the world situations on tv or in movies, but that could never prepare you for when it actually happens. You expect to be a hero, but instead you're a victim. You expect to survive, but instead you die. The tv definitely didn't prepare us for how bad it actually was.

The first time I heard about it, was from this guy I was supposed to go on a blind date with. I had met him on Bumble and we were supposed to go to dinner at this popular restaurant. I had gotten dressed in the sexiest dress I had, put makeup on, and did my hair. From his profile picture, Mike looked really hot, and so I wanted to up my game. I had gotten all the way to the restaurant before he had sent me a text saying that he wouldn't be able to make it because he had been attacked by a random man on the street earlier that day, and that he wasn't feeling well enough to travel. I hadn't believed him until he sent me a picture of the stitches that laced his right arm.

The next time, was when I had brought my daughter, Bella, to see my mother. My mom had been battling cancer for a while at that point and had to stay at the hospital so they could keep an eye on her. Having had Bella when I was just a week shy of turning twenty-five, she helped me a lot, as I had been a scout sniper in the marines at the time. Bella stayed with my mom during that time, as her dad didn't even know that she existed.

We had just finished eating some of the homemade arepas, and sitting in Mom's hospital room, watching the news. We watched as they showed a homemade video someone took with their cellphone, as they stood by a the scene of a massive car accident. And we watched in horror as the video caught one of the supposedly deceased victims rising from the gurney and sinking their teeth into the neck of a paramedic. Of course, that video had gone viral and caused everyone to go crazy. And then it only went downhill from there.

When I witnessed it firsthand for the first time, I had gone to the hospital, having received a call telling me that Mom wouldn't last much longer. So I left Bella home alone (with our trusted Pitt, Zoey, to protect her), and went to visit her. I wasn't there for more than fifteen minutes when Mom passed away.

At the time, the hospital was going crazy. We knew what was going on at that point. The dead were coming back to life and eating people. I was trying to find a doctor to see what we could do with Mom's body. I just wanted to get out of there and get back to Bella as fast as I could. But as I stepped through the doorway, I saw people were running down the halls as people chase them. No. Not people, Muertos. Their veins visible through their skin, their eyes unseeing and cloudy. Some of them have gaping holes in their flesh and bites on their skin. I slam the door shut to prevent any of them getting in, and take deep breaths. I've dealt with tough situations before. I could deal with this. I just needed to keep a clear head.

As I turned back to find a quiet weapon (these things are drawn by sound so my gun wasn't the best option), I was suddenly attacked from behind. My back hit the door as something that used to be my mom threw its full weight at me, its fingers digging into my hair. I held it back by the shoulders and was surprised at how strong it was. Its teeth snapped too close to my face, and I used all of my strength to push it off of me. I looked around the room, trying to find a weapon that wont make a lot of noise. The only thing that I could find is the metal stand that held Mom's IV. I ran over to it, aware that the thing is following close behind me. I picked it up and swung it as hard as I could at Mom's body. That made it fall to the floor, but it was still fighting, making horrible grunting and growling noises. I threw the pole down and drew my gun from its holster. As I looked at its face, I couldn't help but hesitate for a second. This thing used to be my mother. The woman who raised me. The woman who took my kid in when I had to go back and fight a war after September eleventh. The woman who, just fifteen minutes before, died right in front of me. I knew that she hadn't been bitten. I knew that something was wrong, but I was in survival mode then. I needed to kill this thing before it killed me. And then I needed to get back to Bella.

I quickly smashed the thing's head in with the butt of my gun, feeling a knot in my stomach at what I had done to my mother's body. She was one of those Muertos, but still, I felt guilty about it, like I was going to burn in hell or something. Then I looked around to see if I could find a way out without alerting the dead or the armed soldiers who were shooting anything that moved. My eyes turned to the windows and I knew that I'd have to escape through there. We were on the second floor, but I've made longer drops and would be fine. I dropped out of the window, landing on a pile of dead bodies that weren't there when I arrived. I didn't pay them any mind, knowing that I had to get back to my daughter before something bad happened to her. I ran to find my car, but it was gone, unsurprisingly. In the span of two hours, the world went to shit and people started to steal cars. What the fuck ever. If someone was going to steal my car, I would do the same. I couldn't get Bella out of town without a car and I don't have one on me. But then I remembered that Mom's car was still sitting in her garage, just two miles from where I lived with Bella. If I could get there, I'd be set.

I ran the while six miles home, dodging people and the dead. By the time I reached the house, I was pouring sweat, and my heart stopped for a moment when I realized that the front door was open. I ran through the threshold, gun drawn, to see that things were a mess. The tv was missing, so was our stereo and various other things that were worth a lot of money. Whoever ransacked the house must have seen me leave because no one in town would risk trying to rob me when I was here. The town I lived in was very small, everyone knew everyone. So everyone knew that I was a highly skilled ex-marine as well as an FBI agent. I searched the whole first floor with no signs of Bella. But there was no blood, so I took that as a good sign.

"Bella!" I called out. I ran upstairs and checked her room. No luck. Her computer was gone as well as all the jewelry in her jewelry box. Books and clothes and toys littered the ground. I became more worried when I realized that Zoey was nowhere to be found, either. I ran to my room and looked around. I didn't have much in my room in the first place. Only a bed, a dresser, and a locked file cabinet, along with various pictures hanging on the walls. I was always so busy during the day that I had no time to do anything else. "Bella!"

The closet door slid open and Zoey bounded out, followed by Bella. I let my arms fall to my sides as I let out a cry of relief. I pulled my daughter into my arms, relieved that she's safe. I pulled back to see that Bella was crying, tears running down her face.

"Some guys started to bang on our door when you left and broke into our house. I tried to call the police like you said but they didn't answer and then I tried to call you and you didn't either," she said through her tears. I wiped the tears away with my thumbs and looked into her big brown eyes, feeling guilty as hell that I left her here alone. How stupid was I to think that a ten-year-old girl could stay at home by herself? Especially when the whole world seemed to be going to shit.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I should have never left you alone. I wanted to protect you from seeing your Abuela the way she was, but I put you in more danger by not bringing you with me," I told her. "But you did good! You kept Zoey with you and you hid until I came home."

"I was scared that they would find me. But it seemed that they were more focused on stealing our things."

"It's okay if they steal our things. As long as you're okay, that's all that matters. Objects can be replaced, people can't." She looked me over, her eyes widening.

"Is that blood?" she whispered, as if she were afraid of what I might have said.

"Yes. But let's not worry about that now. We have to make the house safe. We'll stay here for a few days to get our bearings, but then we have to leave."

"Why? It's not safe outside."

"Because this house isn't safe. We're vulnerable here. Anybody can come in and try to hurt us." Bella nodded, and we got to work. I fixed the door, boarding it up, as well as all the windows. Then, while Bella read her books in her own room that night, I was in my own room, sharpening my knives and making sure all of my guns were loaded. My favorite knife was the M48 Cyclone Knife. It had a black handle with a long, twisted blade. It's ruthless, and was good at getting the job done. It was a gift to me from a friend of mine who also served in the Marines.

When all of my guns were loaded, one of my big duffel bags that I had gotten from my job was packed with several handguns, a shit-ton of ammo, and other weapons as well as flashlights, batteries and flares. I had a huge safe in my room that I hid all of these things in. I guess that, after I had gotten back from the war and after I retired from the Marines, I just had a feeling in my gut that I'd need these weapons. I had to go to therapy for a while after I got home. I was very depressed and anxious. I had trouble sleeping and my appetite was next to nonexistent and I had flashbacks and nightmares almost every day. PTSD I guess you could say. At the moment, I'm doing okay, not good, but better than I was; but it took me a while to get there.

I threw the heavy bag to the ground and sat on the edge of my bed to take a breath. This was happening so fast that I hadn't gotten a chance to really digest what was happening. I was pretty sure that the government went to shit, which meant that my job was fucked. Not that I'd go to work. Not now when I needed to protect Bella and Zoey. And my poor mother. In a way, she was lucky. She didn't have to deal with this shit. She didn't have to see everything that's going on. On my run home, I saw so many people getting eaten, so many bodies and so much blood. Sure, I've seen messed up shit while in the Marines and my job as a homicide detective, but it still hit me hard.

From what I could tell, this wasn't going to blow over soon. The tv and radio stations are down. A few hours ago, we heard a loud noise coming from outside. Bella was too young to understand, but I knew that it was an explosion. I was able to keep it together long enough to send Bella to her room. But as soon as I got to my room, I broke down. I was hyperventilating, my heart was racing, I had a shortness of breath. An overwhelming sense of fear passed through my body, as I wondered if our town was going to get blown up, next. What if I couldn't protect Bella? What if this doesn't blow over? It'll be like I'm fighting a war every day for the rest of my life. I left the Marines because of that. I didn't want to feel hopeless and anxious anymore. I had gripped the side of the bed, taking deep breaths in through my nose and letting them out through my mouth. Trying to tell myself that I wasn't in any immediate danger. That Bella was alive. That I was alive. But it still took several minutes for me to calm down.

And now? I felt a heavy weight on my chest, like I was suffocating. My heartbeat was still racing and a wave of grave sadness washed over me.

But I knew that I couldn't let my PTSD get in the way. I needed to focus on keeping Bella safe. And the only way to do that was to keep moving forward.

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**A/N: Please review!**


	2. Chapter 1

**I DO NOT OWN THE WALKING DEAD**

I'm woken to a gun shot ringing out for miles. My eyes fly open and I fly into a sitting position, heart racing, looking for the danger that is nearby. I look out the driver's side window, to see a figure lurking outside, their gun drawn and pointed right at my head. I reach for my gun, but before I can do anything else, a voice rings out from inside the car.

"Mom?" Bella says, questioningly. She's wide awake and I can see the gun I had given her in her hands, ready. But she looks confused. I find out why a second later. I look back out the window to see that the figure is nowhere to be seen. Just a figment of my imagination. I let out a slight breath of relief.

"Are you okay? How long was I asleep?" I question my daughter as I pull my seat up into a seated position.

"I'm fine. And you were asleep for about five minutes before the gun shot went off." I look around at our surroundings. Nothing but the shit ton of cars lined on the highway. A few Muertos had been lingering nearby, but they're drawn to that gunshot. "Do you think we should follow where that came from?" I shake my head.

"We can't go chasing after every gun shot that we hear. Whoever they are, I'm sure they're fine." I start the car and, despite only having had a total of one hour of sleep in the past forty-eight hours, I start to drive again. We've been on the road for weeks, and don't stay in one place for more than a night. But this past week we've had to keep moving, as a herd has been heading this way, and I don't want to let the Muertos get the jump on us.

The car is quiet for a few moments, then Bella sighs loudly and sad. "I miss Zoey," she whispers. I look in the rearview mirror to see that she looks sad and my heart breaks for her.

"I know, querida." A few weeks ago, we has stopped at a house for a few days to rest up and get more supplies. There was a fenced in back yard there, and one day I let Zoey out to use the bathroom, thinking the fence was secure. But I was wrong. Fifteen minutes I heard Bella screaming in the back yard. I ran to her and saw that one of the Muertos had gotten through a broken board that I hadn't seen and was tearing into Zoey's flesh. Bella still has nightmares about it.

I only drive for about a half hour before the cars on the road start to thicken and the road becomes completely blocked. A white RV draws my attention. I don't know why, but my intuition tells me that this wasn't always here. I debate turning back so that I can get to the other side of the highway, which isn't flooded with cars. But one look at my gas gauge tells me that I wouldn't make it without running out of gas. I debate on what I should do. Should I bring Bella with me? Should I leave her in the car? Either way is risky. I decide to compromise.

"I'm gonna get out and scope out the area. Lock the doors and when I give you the signal, you can come out and help me search these cars," I tell her. She lets out a frustrated groan.

"What? I can help clear the area with you! Watch your back!" she complains. I shake my head.

"Not a chance, querida. It's too dangerous."

"But—"

"Bellamy!" I warn her, and she shuts her mouth. "You are ten-years-old. You only have a little bit of experience with guns. You're not tall enough or strong enough to fight of Muertos or a living human with a knife. If I were to get ambushed out there by either one, I can't have you out there because I won't be focused on myself not dying, I'll be focused on you not dying, which is dangerous. Because if I can't focus on myself not dying, then I could die, which would automatically mean that you will die, too. Do you understand?" She looks at me and I can tell that she still wants to argue. I sigh. Okay, I'll go at this from a different angle.

"Just stay here, and I'll do my best to find us a place where you can practice with your gun, okay?" Her expression softens.

"Fine," she mumbles, falling back into her seat. I make sure my knife is in its holder on my belt, make sure my gun is loaded and the safety's off, and climb out of the car. Bella locks the doors as soon as I shut mine. I keep my gun out as I slowly make my way to the RV, looking around. I don't see anybody, don't hear anything. It's too quiet. I don't like it. I look through the back window, but there are curtains blocking me from seeing inside. I quickly look on the driver's side of the car, but move on to the passenger's side when I don't see anyone. The door is closed, so I slowly open the latch, and the door swings open. My gun still drawn, I place my foot on the first step, ready to take a look inside, but I don't get any further before I hear the shuffling of feet and weapons behind me. Fuck! I'm off my game today. Usually nobody would be able to get the drop on me.

"C'mon outta there," a man's voice calls out. And when it does, my heart does a little flip. Because I'd know that voice anywhere. He doesn't seem to recognize me from the back, though. I do what he says, as I don't want to get shot. I slowly back away from the RV, my back still to him, my arms raised. "Now drop the gun." I slowly place the gun on the ground, not bothering to tell him that I have another, smaller gun hidden on me. "Turn around." I turn around to face him, and find that he's not alone. He's with two women and three other men. And he looks exactly like he did when last saw him a little more than a decade ago. His brown hair is short and looks like it hasn't been washed in days. He grew a short beard and a short mustache that forms a circle around his mouth. And he's still wearing the same sleeveless shirt that he always wore back then. And he's holding a crossbow pointed at my head.

But when he sees who I am, his hardened look softens and the crossbow is lowered so that it's pointing at the ground. He's looking at me like he's seeing a ghost or something, while everyone else is still looking at me like I'm a threat. But when he lowers, the blonde woman gives him a confused look.

"What's wrong?" she questions him, like he's purposely keeping her in the dark. But he ignores her, not taking his eyes off of me.

"Xo?" he says. I don't know if he actually means it as a question. But it's good that he recognizes me. It's been a long time since we've seen each other. I give him a small, hesitant smile.

"Daryl," I greet.

"Wait, wait, wait," an older man with a hat interrupts. "You two know each other?" Daryl makes his way towards me until he's right in front of me, and stops.

"We haven't seen each other in ten years and you almost shoot me? I'm almost insulted." I lower my arms to my sides, and when I do that, he seems to break out of his trance, and pulls me into a tight embrace. It catches me off guard. For as long as I've known him, fifteen years or so, he's never been the type of person to show emotion or to be affectionate. But I only hesitate for a second before I wrap my arms around him. And as hard as it is to admit it, I'm happy that he's alive. I thought that everyone I had ever known, besides Bella, had died. It's nice to know that I have someone familiar to be around that's an adult.

"I take that as a yes," a man around my age says. And when I pull back from Daryl's embrace, I realize that someone's missing. I look into his blue eyes, afraid of the answer I might get.

"Where's Merle?" I question him. Merle isn't my favorite person in the world, but he's Daryl's brother, and I knew that he was important to him. Daryl gives me a small shake of the head, and I know. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Was nobody's fault but his own." But I could tell that the loss is still fresh. But I don't push it any further.

"I hate to interrupt," the blonde interrupts, "but can you please tell us what's going on?" Daryl turns back to the group.

"This is Xo. A friend of mine from before." Nice introduction. I give him a look that says "really?" and turn to the group myself.

"Xiomara de Silva. But you can call me Xo. Daryl and I knew each other before all of this happened but had lost touch until now."

"Andrea, Glenn, Carol, Dale, and T-Dog," the blonde introduces, still looking me over. "You knew Daryl before? How did you manage to get past Merle?" I see where she's going with this. It's not a secret that Merle was a racist dickhead.

"The house they lived in was right by my mother's. I met them both when I had to go over to their house to make a noise complaint because they were shooting up into all hours of the night. And yes, Merle was a problem at first…but I quickly knocked him down a couple pegs." Meaning I shot him a few times with a BB gun when he told me to go back to Mexico.

"Listen," Dale starts, "I hate to break up story-time, but may I ask where everyone else is?" There are others?

"Carl was shot," Daryl tells him.

"Shot! What do you mean, shot?" Dale exclaims, seeming part confused, part shocked. Glenn nods.

"I don't know, Dale," he says. "I wasn't there. All I know is this chick rode out of nowhere like Zorro on a horse and took Lori." Dale turns to Daryl.

"You let her?"

"Climb down out of my asshole, man. Rick sent her. She knew Lori's name, and Carl's," Daryl snaps back. Ignoring his attitude, Dale turns to Andrea.

"I heard screams. Was that you?" he asks as Andrea moves past him without answering.

"She got attacked by a walker," Glenn answers for her. "It was a close call." I see that Daryl has moved to a motorcycle and Andrea is headed towards where I'm standing near the RV.

"Andrea, are you alright?" Dale calls out. Andrea looks back at him with an exasperated expression, shakes her head and storms her way into the RV.

I head over to Daryl.

"What was that all about?" I question him as he cleans his arrows.

"Nothin' worth mentioning," he answers. "It's like a damn soap opera around here." I give him a smirk.

"You know I love a good telenovela."

"Dunno why. They're not that good." I give him an offended look.

"Don't you dare shit on my telenovelas, mister 'I only watch the hunting channel.'" He snorts.

"At least the hunting channel is educational. All I ever learned from watching one of those telenovelas was how to overreact to everything."

"Well, who's Carl?"

"A kid in our group. His parents are probably with him now."

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Daryl shrugs as an answer. Nice talk.

I shake my head and wonder how old the boy is. Is he Bella's age? It'd be good for her to have someone her age around for her to talk to…if he survives the apparent gunshot. Oh shit. I forgot to tell Bella she can come out of the car. I turn to look at the car, and see Bella intently looking at me through the windshield. I nod my head at her, and she barges out of the car and comes running up to me just as Andrea comes back out of the RV. Everyone seems surprised to see her and they stare as we I meet up with her by the entrance of the RV.

"It took you long enough," Bella tells me. "I was beginning to think you'd never give me the signal."

"Well I'm happy you waited anyway. Keep it up and I'll trust you to do more, okay?" She lets out a huge sigh, but nods her head, her dark brown ponytail bobbing with her head. "And what did I say about the gun? Unless I tell you otherwise, you keep it in your pocket." I gave her a small pocket pistol to start off with. Once I feel like she's gotten enough practice, I'll upgrade it to a regular one. Bella gives me a look, but puts the gun in the back pocket of her jeans.

"Who's this?" Andrea asks, looking at Bella with a smile. Bella looks back at her.

"Bellamy Dixon, but you can call me Bella. Bellamy sounds like an old hag's name." I mentally shake my head in disappointment that she just said the words "old hag", but am too worried about the fact that she said her last name to worry about that. I refuse to look at Daryl, and instead I look at Andrea.

"My daughter," I clarify. "As you can see, she's quite the personality."

"Can I talk to you?" Daryl mutters in my ear. I my eyes find his, and I find that I can't read his expression.

"Do we really need to do this now?" I mutter through my teeth. Cause I really don't want to do it in front of everyone. I never expected to see Daryl again, even before the Muertos. And so I never thought that I'd have to do this.

"Yes," he growls.

"Can't we do this later? When you and your group are split up and one of them has been shot? We'll have plenty of time to discuss everything then."

"She's right," Andrea cuts in, hand on hip. "As much as you need to talk, we need to get back to the rest of the group. We can't be split up like this." Daryl tears his eyes from me and nods.

"Alright. We'll pack up and head to the farm. Shouldn't be too far away," he mutters. Carol shakes her head, and I can sense an urgency in her tone.

"I won't do it," she whispers desperately. "We can't just leave." Wait, what? Why wouldn't she want to leave?

"Carol," Dale starts, "the group is split. We're scattered and weak."

"What if she comes back and we're not here? It could happen." My question of who's she's talking about is answered by Glenn.

"Her daughter," he tells me. I guess my confusion must have shown on my face. "Sophia. She went missing when a heard of walkers came through. Got chased into the woods and now we're trying to find her." Hearing that a little girl went missing, makes me reach out and clutch to Bella's hand firmly. I'm lucky that we've been able to stay together this long. Andrea looks around at all of us.

"If Sophia found her way back and we were gone, that would be awful." It's silent for a moment as everyone thinks.

"Okay." I look over to see Daryl nodding his head. And though I know for a fact that the Bella thing is still on his mind. But I also know that he wouldn't put his own needs in front of the needs of those who needs help. "We gotta plan for this. I say tomorrow morning is soon enough to pull up stakes. Give us a chance to rig a big sign, leave her some supplies. I'll hold here tonight, stay with the RV"

"If the RV is staying, I am too," Dale agrees.

A grateful look on her face, Carol says, "Thank you. Thank you both." She's close to tears.

"I'm in," Andrea says, throwing up her hands.

"Well, if you're all staying then I'm—" Glenn starts.

"Not you, Glenn. You're going," Dale interrupts. "Take Carol's Cherokee."

"Me? Why is it always me?" Glenn does not seem happy about this arrangement.

"You have to find this farm, reconnect with our people and see what's going on. But most important, you have to get T-Dog there. This is not an option. That cut has gone from bad to worse. He has a very serious blood infection. Get him to that farm. See if they have any antibiotics." Daryl looks slightly taken aback and starts to head to his motorcycle. "Because if not, T-Dog will die, no joke." Daryl picks up a white rag that I hadn't noticed before and digs into the compartment and pulls out a big bag of pill bottles.

"Keep your oily rags off my brother's motorcycle," he warns as he throws the rag at Dale and sets the bag on the hood of a yellow car. "Why'd you wait till now to say anything? Got my brother's stash." I bark out a laugh.

"Even at the end of the world, Merle had to have his fix," I say. It's not meant to be bitter, more like a statement of fact.

"He'd give up his last food rations to get a fix," Daryl agrees. "Even before the world went to shit." He continues to rifle through the bag. "Crystal, X. Don't need that. He pulls out a bottle and throws it to Glenn. "Some kickass painkillers. Oxycycline." He throws the bottle to Dale. Not the generic stuff neither. It's first class." I roll my eyes.

"Merle got the clap on occasion," I tell them. I bite back a smile at the memories that flood my mind. As Dale heads over to give the pills to T-Dog, who's by the RV with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, I sigh.

"I want to stay and help," I tell them. "I do. But I can't have Bella out here at night while I comb the woods." I look over at Carol. "I'm sorry."

"She could go with Glenn back to the farm," Andrea suggests. The rest of our people should be there. And the woman who took Lori was on a horse and looked clean and well fed. She should be safe." I hesitate. I don't know these people and don't know if I should trust them with my daughter.

"Glenn's trustworthy, Xo," Daryl reassures me. I look over at him. And I almost do it. I almost agree. I shake my head.

"I can't. I'm sorry. I just…I can't leave her." I start envisioning all the possible things that could happen to Bella if I left her. If I wasn't there to protect her. She could be killed or bitten or worse. And I'm not ready to leave her yet. Not when I don't know where this place is. Not when I don't know these people yet. Carol comes up to me, and gives me a tight hug.

"It's okay," she whispers in my ear. She pulls me back and meets my eyes. "I understand. You look after your daughter. Keep her close to you." I nod in appreciation.

"I'll go with Glenn and T-Dog and meet up with the rest of your group. See if there's any way I can help out there."

"I wanna stay and help look for Sophia," Bella says, looking up at me.

"Sorry, kid. It's gonna be dark out in a couple of hours and I don't want you wandering the woods in the dark."

"But I can help! I don't want just go and be safe when I can help."

"You can help in other ways. And I'm sure that there'll be plenty to do tomorrow." She huffs and folds her arms across her chest.

"When will you stop telling me what to do? You never let me do anything." I make a big show of pretending to think it over.

"When you turn eighteen or I die. So don't hold your breath." I turn her around and push her in the direction of our car. I look back at Glenn. "I'll follow you in my car." He nods in agreement. I throw one last look over at Daryl one last time, and our eyes meet, an unsaid goodbye between us. And then I get into my car, and follow Glenn and T-Dog to the farm.

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**A/N: What did you guys think? Review!**


	3. Chapter 2

**I DO NOT OWN THE WALKING DEAD**

It's dark by the time we arrive at the farm and even though the light coming from the decently-sized white farmhouse eases my anxiety, I still don't like having Bella out in the open at night. If I was by myself it would be different, but having Bella outside when it's dark out, when I'll have a harder time seeing Muertos. But I try not to let it get to me. I pull the car up next to where Glenn parked, and turn it off.

"Do you think we'll be able to stay here?" Bella questions me from the back seat." I know what she's seeing. The big house that's still intact. The electricity, the possibility of hot water. We haven't had a real shower in a couple weeks. And the possibility of a real meal instead of the MREs that we've been surviving off of. It's tempting. But we don't know the people who own this house and we don't know anyone in this group. The only reason why I was willing to come with Glenn and T-Dog in the first place is because Daryl seems to trust them. And I need a safe place for Bella to go so that I can get some sleep.

"I don't know. We can stay at least for tonight. But after that, I'm not sure what we'll do," I answer. My daughter is quiet for a moment, which is rare for her. She's usually always talking.

"Mom…how did you know that man?" I know who she's referring to, but I decide to play dumb.

"Who?"

"The man. The dirty one. Who looks like a total hick, by the way." I roll my eyes at her choice of words and shake my head at the same time.

"He's no one. Just a friend of mine from a long time ago." I look over to the other car and see Glenn and T-Dog climbing out of their car. "C'mon, let's go." We grab our bags and step out of our own car. I share a look with Glenn for a quick second, I can tell he's not sure about what to do, so I take over. I lead the four of us to the dimply lit porch and barely take in the blood drops on the steps. The blood must belong to Carl.

But while I barely glance over it, Glenn, T-Dog, and Bella take a second to stare at it in slight shock.

"So, do we ring the bell?" Glenn questions. I turn back to look at him. "I mean, it looks like people live here."

"Why not? It's what we'd do in a normal situation," I say. Besides, there's nothing else we _can_ do. It wouldn't be smart to just walk into someone's house unannounced, even if it's the end of the world.

"We're past this kind of stuff, aren't we?" T-Dog labors out, though his breathing seems to be off due to his wound. "Having to be considerate." They make their way up the stairs beside me, and I notice a girl in my peripheral vision. I turn my head to get a good look at her and see that she's young: a good ten or more years younger than my thirty-five years. Early twenties, I'd say. she's sitting on an old white, wooden chair with her legs pulled up against her chest and her arms wrapped around her shins. She's staring at us, like she's been waiting.

"Did you close the gate up the road when you drove in?" she wonders. While I nod, Glenn says,

"Uh, hi…Yes, we closed it. Did the latch and everything." The girl leans forward in her chair, like she's enjoying seeing him all flustered. "Hello," Glenn musters again. "Nice to see you again. We met before, briefly."

"Look, we came to help. There anything we can do?" T-Dog cuts in.

"Yeah," I add, "I might not look like much, but…I can do a lot of heavy lifting and whatever you need. If you'd like, I'll take my rifle and keep a look out for the night in case anything comes up." The girl turns her gaze on me.

"I don't think my dad would take too kindly to strangers having guns on his land. I'm not against it, but you'd have to take it up with him." I nod, not taking it personally. We don't know them and they don't know us. I wouldn't trust her with a gun in her hand, either.

The girl turns back to T-Dog and looks down at the white bandage that covers his forearm. "It's not a bite," he reassures her. "I cut myself pretty bad though."

"We'll have it looked at. I'll tell them you're here," the girl tells us, and Glenn digs through his bag to find the bottle that Daryl gave him.

"We have some painkillers and antibiotics," he pulls the bottle out. "I already gave him some. If Carl needs any." The girl makes her way to the front door.

"Come on inside. I'll make you something to eat." Bella looks at me excitedly at the prospect of eating something other than MREs. I give her a small smile and follow the others inside. The house is also dimly lit. It looks like your typical farm house. Wooden furniture and very few electronics. It's a nice place, and it's lucky to have survived this long.

We follow the girl into a bedroom where four other people sit, waiting around a bed. In the bed is a small boy, around Bella's age, and looks deathly pale. An older man sits at the edge of the bed, checking the boy over, and two people around my age sit in chairs next to the boy.

"Hey," Glenn greets them.

"Hey," the one man says back. The older man stands up from the bed and turns back to look at us. I look down at Bella to see her staring at Carl. I wonder what's going through her head right now.

"Um, we're here, okay?"

"Thank you," the woman with long brown hair says. I'm assuming she's Lori. The man rubs his forehead and his eyes skim over me.

"Who's this?" he questions.

"I'm Xo, and this is my daughter, Bella. I'm an…old friend of Daryl's. We found each other on the highway where you guys were set up." He gives me a slight nod. The girl leads T-Dog and Glenn into another part of the house, and I nudge Bella. "Go and get some food. I'm gonna stay here for a few minutes." I figure that this house is closed off enough that I'd be able to get to her quickly if something were to go wrong. Bella nods and follows them.

The old man pulls back the blanket covering Carl, and reveals a bandage covering his swollen belly. Lori and her husband, Rick I think his name is, flinch at the sight.

"They don't get back soon, we're gonna have a decision to make," he says.

"And that is?" Rick retorts.

"Whether to operate on your boy without the respirator."

"You said that wouldn't work," Lori reminds him.

"I know. It's extremely unlikely. But we can't wait much longer."

"What are you guys talking about?" I wonder.

"A friend of ours, Shane, and one of Hershel's men, Otis, went to the local high school," Rick tells me. "They had set up a camp of sorts there. The equipment we need to operate on Carl is there, but…"

But Shane and Otis aren't back and time is running out. "I can go after them. Make sure they're okay."

"No," Hershel says, "you wouldn't get far."

"If you draw me a map then, yeah, I'll get as far as I need to. Something like this wouldn't be too different from the kinds of things I'd have to do when I was in the marines. Just add in some Muertos in there, but I can handle them."

"You're a marine?" Lori asks. I nod.

"A scout sniper for ten years. Hence the camo jacket. It was mine back when I was on active duty. I can handle myself. More importantly, I'm very skilled with a gun and other weapons." I look around the room. "Look, I know we just met, so I understand if you don't trust me enough yet. But if you need me, I'll be there." I give them one last nod of my head and go and find Bella. I know that I just turned down looking for Sophia because I wanted to stay with Bella. But I feel like she'd be safe enough here that I'd be able to go if they need me to.

I find her sitting at the table, eating a sandwich while the girl cleans up T-Dogs arm. I come to stand beside Bella and watch the girl work.

"I'm Maggie, by the way," she says to me.

"Xo," I retort. "Thank you for feeding her." I nod in Bella's direction. "She's gotten tired of the MREs that I had." I laugh. "But I had to eat them constantly for ten years so I might just be used to them."

"They're nasty," Bella cuts in. "Most of the time we can't heat them up, so we have to eat them cold." She shudders at the memory. I can't blame her.

"It's no problem. We have plenty and it'd feel wrong to keep it to ourselves when there's a child around," Maggie says. I'm grateful that they feel that way, and that Bella will go to bed with a full stomach tonight. I sit with her for a while, and after about fifteen minutes an older woman who introduces herself as Patricia comes in and starts to stitch up T-Dog's arm.

Throughout the next hour it's just a waiting game. Hershel gives Rick and Lori one more hour for Shane and Otis to get back. After that they'll have to operate without the right equipment. I sit in the bedroom on a chair while Bella is occupied by one of her comic books.

Carl looks so frail laying on the bed. Like he's made of glass. His parents are more worried than ever, and they can't take their eyes off of him.

"So how'd you meet Daryl?" I look up to see Lori looking at me. I can tell that she needs something to take her mind off her son, so I answer.

"When I was twenty, him and Merle moved into the house next to my mother's. I didn't meet him until he'd been living there for about six months because I had been deployed.

"He and Merle and whoever else they had over there were making a lot of noise, so I had to go over there and tell them to keep it down. Daryl asked what was in it for him and I told him that if he didn't turn it down I'd shoot him." I smile at the memory. "We became…not friends, more like friendly acquaintances, for a while. It took about three years before I was able to call him my best friend."

"I guess I'm surprised that you and him are friends. Merle could be…"

"I know, but Daryl isn't like his brother. I heard that Merle…well he isn't with you anymore, so I take it that you didn't have much of a chance to see the two of them as separate people. It took me a long time to do so. But while Merle was brash and insensitive and racist and sexist and a little bit of a psychopath; Daryl isn't. Yes, he might be rough around the edges and an acquired taste, but once you're around him for a while, you'll start to like him. I've found that he's very selfless."

"Daryl? Selfless?" Glenn cuts in. I look over to see him standing in the doorway. He doesn't really believe me. In fact, I don't think any of them do. I smile, more for myself than for any of them.

"When my mom was diagnosed with cancer for the first time…I took some time off from the marines to stay with her. Daryl? He brought me clean clothes, washed my dirty ones, and brought me food from whatever fast food place I wanted. He even drove forty-five minutes away, once, to get me arepas because I had mentioned that I was craving them. Then when my mom had to go into surgery to remove a tumor from her brain? Daryl stayed with my in the waiting room through the entire six hour procedure." I pause, comforted by the memory. That I had someone with me in that time. I'm an only child. So were both of my parents and my dad had died when I was six. I had no one else. "So yeah, I think that he, when he wants to be, is very selfless."

"It's time," Hershel cuts in. "He's still losing blood faster than we can replace it. And with the swelling in his abdomen, we can't wait any longer. Or he's just going to slip away." Our attention shifts from my story to the old man. Lori paces and Rick slowly stands up from his chair. "Now I need to know right now if you want me to do this, because I think your boy is out of time. You have to make a choice."

"A choice?" Lori gets out. She sounds like she's about to cry.

"A choice," Rick repeats. "You have to tell me what it is." He looks at his wife desperately. "You have to tell me what it is." Looking like she'd rather die herself, Lori touches the side of Rick's face.

"We do it." After that things move quickly. Hershel and Patricia wheel in a long metal table, and I know what it's for.

"Okay, get the corner of that bed. Let's get the sheets down." I step back as I watch them work. It's not my place to step in. Only if they ask. "Get the IV bag on the sheet." They all get into position. "Okay, on three. One, two, three." They lift the boy up and place his lifeless body on the table. Patricia brings over a metal tin filled with surgical supplies, as well as a light, which she switches on. I move out of the way, standing in the doorway. I can't look away, though.

"Rick, Lori, you may want to step out," Hershel warns. But I know that if it were Bella on that table, I wouldn't be going anywhere, so don't think they would, either. But as soon as the words leave his mouth, the sound of a car pulling up the driveway reaches us. Rick looks out the window.

"Oh God." Him, Lori, and I move to greet whoever it is outside.

"You stay with him," Hershel orders Patricia.

Outside, a man around my age with dark hair climbs out of the truck. He's breathing heavily, and limping, but he's got several bags with him.

"Carl," he wheezes out.

"There's still a chance," Rick answers. Shane hands over the bags, and Hershel looks back at him.

"Otis?" Shane gives him a crazed look, and it's the telltale sign that Otis didn't make it. Hershel is quiet for a moment before he gets back to business. "We say nothing to Patricia. Not till after. I need her." He rushes back into the house, but I hang back with the others.

Shane and Rick share a hug, and I see Shane throw Lori a look. I can't quite tell what it means, but there's something off. The two men pull apart after a moment.

"They kept blocking us at every turn," Shane tells us. "We had nothing left. We were down to ten rounds. Then he said—he said he'd cover me and that I should keep going. So that's what I did. I just… I kept going. But I—I looked back and he—" Shane shakes his head. "I tried."

"He wanted to make it right," Rick reminds him. A sobbing sound comes from Maggie, and I look over to see her crying. She must have been close with Otis. All this talk about death makes me need to be around Bella, so I make my way back into the house, and sit next to Bella, who'd fallen asleep on the couch. Now, all I can do is just wait.


	4. Chapter 3

**I DO NOT OWN THE WALKING DEAD**

I end up falling asleep on the couch, and by the next morning it's clear that Carl is gonna survive. He's doing better and some of the color has returned to his face. But he hasn't woken up yet, so I imagine Lori and Rick are still anxious. And now that he's out of the woods, I'm sure Hershel and his family are focused on arranging a funeral of sorts for Otis. I wake up this morning to Patricia sobbing in the kitchen and Daryl standing over me.

Startled, I sit up straight and look around myself. It's clearly mid-morning, maybe ten o'clock, and Bella is nowhere to be seen. I frantically search my surroundings, hoping that I'll find her, but before I can get too worried, Daryl speaks up.

"She's in the room with Carl," he clarifies. I sigh in relief, and sag back into the couch.

"When did you get here?" I question him.

"Fifteen minutes ago." He has bags under his eyes and looks like he hasn't slept in days. "We need to talk." It isn't a request, and I know that he's right. These past ten years I had always been afraid of him finding out and wanting to talk about it. I'm nervous about his reaction and afraid of what he'll say. But I put on a brave face and nod.

"Yeah, we do. Let's go somewhere more private." I get up and make sure to let Bella know that I'm going to be gone for a few minutes and to not leave the house until I get back. And then I go outside and see that the view is breathtaking. Open fields untouched by the Muertos and a huge barn that is in good condition. If I didn't know any better, I could forget about everything bad going on right now by just looking at this view.

Daryl and I walk a few yards and stop near the gate that is far enough away from everyone that we won't be heard. But once we arrive, I find that the words that had been forming in my brain get caught in the back of my throat. How do I start?

"So," Daryl begins for me, "is there somethin' you wanna tell me? About that little girl?" He gives me an accusing look and I can tell he's angry with me.

I shake my head, my heart pounding in my chest. "What do you want me to say? That she's yours? Well, congratulations, Daryl, you're a father."

"How did this happen?" he growls, pacing in front of me. I snort.

"You and I both know how it happened. October twenty-ninth. You and I were hanging out the day before I had to leave for what was supposed to be a six-month-long deployment. We had a few sips of Merle's moonshine and ate stale cookies on my mom's couch." When people used to ask how I knew the exact date I conceived Bella, I would never tell them a straight answer. The truth is that Daryl and I had only ever did it once…if you can really call it sex. It was over in like sixty seconds and wasn't the most pleasurable if you know what I mean. But I'll never forget it.

"You never thought to get rid of it?" he hisses. I take a step back in surprise as soon as the words left his mouth. They remind me of the Daryl that I met for the first time all those years ago. The Daryl who was too influenced by his brother to be considerate of other people's feelings.

"Why on earth would you think I'd get an abortion?" I question him.

"I dunno, maybe because neither of us were ready for a kid! You were in the marines and never home for more than a few weeks. I was living with my meth-head brother and his druggie friends and had never held a real job."

"Well we did alright for ten years…even though you weren't around."

"And who's fault is that? You didn't even tell me about her!"

"If I remember correctly, Daryl, I called home as soon as I knew I was pregnant and my mother told me that you and Merle were gone and hadn't left any contact info. I tried calling you on your phone, I asked around, I searched for you as best I could in that situation, but you were gone. It's _your_ fault that you never knew about her." There's fire in his eyes and I know that he's getting worked up. I see everybody moving outside. Setting up camp with tents and fires to cook food as well as getting ready to look for Sophia. I can see a few people throw questioning looks our way. They don't know the whole story behind the two of us yet.

"How was I supposed to know you were pregnant?! I thought you were on the pill!" I snort. He has got to be kidding me.

"Yeah, Daryl. I forgot that back then I was swimming in so much dick while deployed that I had to be on the pill so I wouldn't get pregnant." Daryl rolls his eyes at that and rubs his chin. "The real question is: why did you leave without saying anything? You couldn't keep in touch? Couldn't leave your phone number with my mom? And you had my phone number. Why didn't you call?"

He shakes his head, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else but here talking to me. He needs an escape. He can't handle the emotional stuff. He turns and begins to leave, heading for where everyone was preparing for the funeral. He doesn't look back at me.

Real mature. It's hard to believe he's six years older than me. More times than not he acts like he's fifteen. Whatever. It's not important right now. I can always talk to him again later. Right now I need to help find Sophia. I run up and catch up to Daryl easily.

"I'm going to tell her," I inform him. He throws a startled look over at me.

"The hell are you talkin' 'bout?"

"I'm going to tell Bella that you're her father." Daryl skids to a stop and grabs ahold of my arm.

"What?! Why?" I scoff. He can be so clueless sometimes.

"Because I know that if I don't and she finds out later on from someone else, she'll never forgive me. And, just like you, she can hold a grudge like I've never seen. And you know what? I wouldn't forgive myself. If my mother had deliberately hid my father's identity from me and I found out from someone else, I wouldn't forgive her." He laughs without humor and runs a hand through his hair. But I've grown tired of this conversation. We need to attend Otis's funeral.

"Look, we can finish talking later. But please don't be annoyed with me," I plead with him. "I honestly, tried my best to contact you and tell you. I had the best relationship with my father before he died and I wanted the same for Bella. So let's just let it go for right now and get to the funeral, okay?" He holds my gaze for a long moment, before his face slowly softens, and he nods.

I follow him to where the others stand by a tall tree and a tall stack of stones. A wheelbarrow sits nearby with smaller stones, and Hershel stands in a way that a leader would while giving a speech to his group. And Bella stands, her dark hair down and flying wildly in the wind, by Lori, her back to the fence. When she sees me she runs to meet me, and the both of us stand to the side, her grasping my hand tightly.

"Blessed be God," Hershel begins, reading from a bible, one that resembles the bible my mother kept by her hospital bed each night. Beth, a blonde teenager I had seen walking around last night, steps up and places a stone at the top of the already towering mountain. "Father of our lord Jesus Christ." Then Jimmy, Beth's boyfriend, takes his turn. "Praise be to Him for the gift of our brother Otis, for his span of years, for his abundance of character; Otis, who gave his life to save a child's, now more than ever, our most precious asset." I take my turn to set a stone on the mountain. And then Bella tries, but falls short, and I have to lift her up by her waist so that she can properly set the stone down. We take our places back on the sidelines. "We thank you, God, for the peace he enjoys in your embrace. He died as he lived, in grace."

Hershel looks over to that man that showed up last night, Shane. Something about his facial expression, the far off look, the beads of sweat gathering at his newly shaven hairline. The bald spot on his head that, for some reason, I feel wasn't always there. He's hiding something. I don't know what it is, but there's something there.

"Shane, will you speak for Otis?" Hershel questions.

"I'm not good at it," replies Shane, avoiding Hershel's gaze. Definitely hiding something. "I'm sorry." That last part was a whisper.

"You were the last one with him," cries Patricia. "You shared his final moments. Please. I need to hear. I need to know his death had meaning." I can tell Shane is ransacking his brain for words. Anything he can say.

"Okay," he agrees. "We were about done. Almost out of ammo. We were down to pistols by then. I was limping. It was bad. Ankle all swollen up. 'We've got to save the boy.' See, that's what he said. He gave me his backpack. He shoved me ahead. 'Run,' he said. He said, 'I'll take the rear. I'll cover you.'" Shane is quiet for a moment. "And when I looked back…" He starts limping over to the wheelbarrow.

"If not for Otis, I'd have never made it out alive. And that goes for Carl, too. It was Otis…he saved us both." He looks back at Patricia, a weird look in his eyes. "If any death ever had meaning, it was his." And then he places the stone on top of the mountain.

After Shane's little speech, the funeral progresses faster, and it's over quickly. And then everyone seems to move on from the loss they had just witnessed…to focus on a little girl that's still missing. While they gathered their things, I tell Bella about Daryl, and she seems to take it okay. She just asks me if she'll have to listen to Daryl now, and if she needs to start calling him "Dad". I reassure her that she can just call him Daryl, and while everything else is still awkward and needs to be figured out, nothing has changed at the current moment.

* * *

"How long has this girl been missing?" Hershel questions as we crowd around the hood of the Cherokee. Bella and I squeeze in with the others.

"This'll be day three," answers Rick as Maggie runs up with a map. She unfolds it on the hood and weighs it down.

"County survey map," she tells us. "Shows terrain, and elevations."

"This is perfect. We can finally get this thing organized. We'll grid the whole area, start searching in teams." That's seems like a good idea. These days nobody should be going out alone and we have the numbers to go in pairs. Now I just have to find a way to break the news to Bella that she won't be a part of the search teams.

"Not you. Not today," Hershel interjects. "You gave three units of blood. "You wouldn't be hiking three minutes in this heat before passing out." He turns to Shane. "And your ankle—push it now, you'll be laid up a month, no good to anybody." Neither Shane nor Rick look thrilled by the idea of sitting here all day.

"Guess it's just me," Daryl states as he turns the map towards him. I smirk and slide up next to him.

"Correction," I cut in. "It's just us. I'm perfectly healthy and ready to watch your back. Provided, of course, that you watch mine." Daryl gives me an unreadable look, but before he can say anything, Shane beats him to it.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" The way Shane asks it, it sounds accusing somehow. Like he doesn't enjoy my presence. I meet his gaze.

"Xo," I introduce myself shortly. "I'm an old friend of Daryl's, and…" I lock eyes with Daryl, and I can tell that he knows what I'm about to say because he gets that exasperated glint in his eyes. But I know that we have to rip this band-aid off at some point. They'll find out anyway. "We share a daughter together. Bella." I gesture to my daughter, and I can feel several pairs of shocked eyes on me. I assume their gazes are also aimed at Daryl as well.

"Daryl is this true?" Andrea questions. Daryl looks at the people surrounding him. He hesitates before nodding.

"Yeah. It's true. I had left town with Merle before Xo even knew she was pregnant, so…so there was no way I could've known. It ain't Xo's fault neither." Daryl's eyes meet mine, and I can see that he's accepted the blame for his ignorance. "I left her with no way to contact me."

"Let's just put that in the past," I tell him. "Trust me, I'm a lot less mad than I was ten years ago. I'm ready to move on. Okay?" He gives a nod.

"Okay, let's move on." And I feel that, when he said it, he truly meant it.

* * *

**A/N: Please review!**


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